Captivating the Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love)

by Hutton, Callie

  “I think not.” Afraid a lengthy altercation with the man might give Lizzie leave to escape—although there really wasn’t anywhere she could run—he pulled the man up by his jacket collar and shoved him away. The drunkard stumbled and landed facedown on the floor.

  Hawk gripped Lizzie’s elbow and pulled her to her feet. No one paid them any mind as he walked her to the innkeeper, who stood behind the bar, serving an ale to a customer. “A room for the night for myself and my wife, please. Also see that her belongings are unloaded from the stagecoach and sent to our room.”

  …

  Lizzie thought her heart would stop when she turned to see Hawk standing behind her, peering at her with those dark brown eyes. She almost considered throwing herself on the drunk man to escape, but her common sense prevailed, and she allowed Hawk to walk her over to the innkeeper.

  Truth be known, she was almost happy he’d found her. Besides the difficulty of traveling with strangers, she had no idea where she was going, and how long her money would last. She was weary, hungry, and in need of a bath after the stagecoach.

  She didn’t even flinch when he announced he wanted a room for him and his wife. He would not let her out of his sight now, and with it growing dark soon, they couldn’t travel back to Wycliff. Or into London if that was where he planned on dragging her.

  “Certainly, my good man. I have a large chamber with a sitting room.”

  “That will do. My wife will also require a bath, and dinner sent up to the room.”

  Lizzie trudged up the stairs and down the corridor to a room at the end of the walkway, the innkeeper in front of her, and Hawk bringing up the rear. The innkeeper opened the door and allowed them to step in. “I will send my wife to assist your wife with her bath.”

  Hawk nodded and closed the door.

  Lizzie walked to the settee in front of the window in the sitting room and slumped into the soft cushions. “I suppose I am on my way to London, now.”

  Hawk shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the back of the settee. “No.”

  She looked up at him, frowning. “No? I thought you were ordered by the Home Office to bring me in.”

  He sat next to her and took her hands. “Lizzie, had you waited, you would have discovered that I had plans to bring you to my estate in Suffolk. Right now, I have serious questions about the Home Office, and the tampered saddle, which I believe may be connected. I can protect you at my estate until I have this all figured out.”

  Tears welled in her eyes—all the fear, weariness, and stress of the day catching up with her. “Oh.”

  She lowered her head, the tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. As much as she attempted to have a dignified cry, she covered her face with her hands, and the sobs burst forth. Hawk pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head as she cried.

  For her dead father. His disgrace. The stress of running, the years of hiding. The toss from the horse, the threat from the Home Office, and the horrible day of traveling on the stagecoach.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. We’ll get it all sorted out.”

  His kind words only made her cry harder. But, unlike most men uncomfortable with women’s tears, Hawk did not try to escape as quickly as possible. He continued to hold her, rubbing her back and murmuring words of comfort that she could not make out.

  She drew back and wiped her cheeks. “You told the innkeeper we were married. I am ruined.”

  Hawk threw his head back and laughed. “My dear, you are wanted by the Home Office for questioning about treason, someone might be trying to kill you, and you are concerned about being ruined?”

  Despite her worry about scandal, she had to laugh along with him. It was rather silly to be worried about ruination right now. “’Tis something that is impressed upon young ladies from the nursery.” She hiccupped.

  “I understand your concerns, sweeting. However, I cannot take a chance on you running again, and have you forgotten there is someone out there who wants to harm you? You need my protection, and from the looks of the crowd in the room downstairs who heard my request, I don’t think you need to worry about a scandal erupting in London about us anytime soon.”

  Hawk tipped her chin up. “I shall hire a private coach, but it won’t be available until tomorrow. I suggest you have your bath, dinner, and a good night’s sleep.”

  “How far is it to your estate?” She accepted the handkerchief he handed her and blew her nose.

  “About a day and a half, depending on the roads and weather.”

  Lizzie sighed. The light throbbing in her head had begun to turn into something more uncomfortable. She rubbed her temples, wishing for this nightmare to be over. Her peace and contentment for the past two years had been ripped out from under her, and now she was at sixes and sevens.

  A knock at the door drew their attention. Hawk rose and answered. A middle-aged woman stood there, towels over her arms. “My lord, my sons are bringing up the tub and hot water for your wife’s bath.”

  Hawk stepped aside to allow the woman entrance, which was followed by four strapping youths carrying the items. Within minutes they had the tub set up and the water poured, and left the room.

  After directing the young men and seeing that all was set up to her standards, the woman turned to Hawk. “When would you like your dinner sent up, my lord?”

  “Give us an hour.”

  The woman dipped and left the room. Hawk walked over to Lizzie and pulled her up. “As much as I would enjoy watching you in your bath, despite my reputation, I am still a gentleman.”

  She nodded.

  He grinned. “Unless you want me to…”

  She shook her head.

  He chuckled. “Very well then, I will be downstairs.” He glanced at her bosom. “Since your gown buttons in the front, I assume you don’t need help getting out of your clothes?”

  “No. A governess is not assigned a lady’s maid.” She grinned, feeling relaxed for the first time since she’d left the Wycliff estate early that morning.

  “Ah, yes.” Hawk kissed her on the top of her head and left the room.

  Lizzie eyed the lovely bath and quickly removed her clothes. A nice long soak would do wonders for her temperament.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hawk checked his timepiece and swallowed the last of the barely passable warm ale. Lizzie should have finished her bath, and the dinner for the two of them would arrive shortly. The entire hour he’d sat in the common room, he’d been plagued with visions of Lizzie in her bath.

  Lizzie with slick, naked skin.

  Lizzie with water dripping from her nipples. Were they deep rose, pale pink, or dark brown?

  Lizzie leaning back, her breasts thrust forward as she dipped her silky hair into the water.

  Bloody hell, if he kept this up he would be unable to walk from the room with any sense of dignity.

  Now that he knew her real identity, and she’d gone from his cousin’s employee to a young, unmarried lady of the peerage, all the naughty thoughts he’d had about her no longer needed to be suppressed. On the other hand, because she was an unmarried innocent lady of the peerage, he still needed to keep his hands off.

  After tapping lightly, he opened the door to their room. The tub sat in the center of the space. Her satchel lay open, with clothing spilled from it, but his eyes were immediately drawn to Lizzie standing in the middle of the room. A fine pale rose embroidered silk wrapper covered a matching nightgown. Her still-damp hair had been worked into a plait that hung down her back. Small toes stuck out from under the hem of her gown.

  Bloody hell, but what that little bit of naked skin did to him.

  She glanced down to her feet and quickly bent to tug on slippers.

  It didn’t help. His cock stood at attention, ready to charge forward.

  “Dinner should be here any minute.” He managed to get the words out despite his dry mouth and raging erection. “Won’t you sit, and I’ll check on it.” He had to get out of that room befor
e he did something stupid.

  Before he could escape, there was a knock on the door. Grateful for the distraction, he breathed a sigh of relief as one of the strapping lads carried in a large tray. “Just set it down there.” Hawk pointed to the small table in the sitting room. As far away from the bed as he could get.

  Once the youth left, Hawk waved at the table, and Lizzie took a seat. They shared the savory mutton stew, warm bread, and apple cake in silence. Lizzie fidgeted throughout the meal, and he wasn’t sure of the cause. Was it them alone together in a bedchamber, or what she faced with the summons from the Home Office?

  “My lord, have you responded to the Home Office’s request for my presence?”

  He smiled inwardly. Them alone with her dressed in a nightgown, and a bed nearby, was not her top concern after all.

  “I have not. I was still considering what to do when I realized you had left Wycliff.” He wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin on the table. “I want to get you to Hawkins Manor where I can do a much better job of protecting you, and then I will write to the Home Office and think of a reason why I can’t bring you in right away.”

  Her stiffened countenance relaxed at his words. “You mentioned there might be a connection between the severed saddle girth and the Home Office?”

  “Yes.” He wondered how much to tell her. He needed to impress upon her that she was in danger but didn’t want to reveal too much of his concerns about the Home Office. He was under orders from the Secretary and needed to handle the situation with aplomb, lest he compromise their investigation. “What connection I cannot say right now because I am still trying to figure it out.”

  Lizzie nodded slowly, and Hawk realized how very tired she must be. “I think it would be best if you had a good night’s sleep. It has been a long and stressful day, and we have many miles between us and Hawkins Manor.”

  She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Yes, I believe so.” She moved to stand and stopped midway, her eyes wide. “Where will you sleep?”

  He gestured toward the bed in the next room. “You will sleep on the bed, and I will sleep right here.” He patted the sofa.

  Lizzie eyed it dubiously. “That is hardly large enough for you. It will be quite uncomfortable.”

  Hawk raised his eyebrows. “Are you inviting me to share your bed, my lady?”

  Her cheeks flushed, and he swore he saw something in her eyes that had him wondering if the same ideas he’d had earlier were in her thoughts, as well. Her chin came up with all the haughtiness only a young lady of the ton could display. “Certainly not!” With a sweep of her dressing gown, she turned and left the room, head held high.

  Hawk chuckled as she closed the door between the rooms with a firm snap. He sat still, listening to the rustle of her dressing gown being removed, then her slippers dropping to the floor. Within seconds, the sound of the rope mesh under the mattress squeaked as Lizzie climbed into bed.

  Blast his perfect hearing!

  A good strong drink was just what he needed to be able to sleep. Maybe two. Or three. He strode across the floor and headed down the stairs as if the demons of hell were at his heels.

  …

  Lizzie cocked her head at the sound of Hawk leaving the sitting room and hurrying down the stairs. She was sure he was going for a drink, which was precisely what she needed. A nice glass of sherry would help her relax since all her earlier fatigue had vanished.

  She might be an innocent, but the look on Hawk’s face when he’d walked into the room and saw her standing there in her nightgown brought tingles to her breasts. His perusal had gone from the top of her head to her bare toes. Why she thought pulling on her slippers would cover her more was comical.

  Lying on her back, her hands folded on top of the counterpane, she went over the happenings of the day. She’d only traveled about two miles on the stagecoach when she realized what a mistake she’d made. Running had helped her once, but Hawk was not the type of man to let her go. He’d been commissioned by the Home Office to bring her in for questioning, and even if he hadn’t decided what to do yet, he would certainly not shrug it off if she disappeared once more.

  Every time she thought about Wycliff’s cousin, her stomach fluttered. Her breathing increased, and parts of her body called to her to do something. Or permit Hawk to do something. Even though she was by herself, in the dark, she still blushed at those thoughts.

  What would it be like to have Hawk kiss her again? To have his large, strong hands on her body, caressing, stroking, drawing her against him. When he’d pulled her into his arms for that kiss in the carriage, his engorged manhood had been visible in his pantaloons. He’d been aroused, and that she could affect a man as worldly as Lord Hawkins, who had taken any number of beautiful and experienced women to bed, was exciting indeed.

  She turned and flopped onto her stomach, resting her chin on her laced fingers. He was, of course, a gentleman, but what would she do if he tried to seduce her? She snorted. If he was as skilled as they said he was, she would, most likely, succumb.

  That was a frightening and exhilarating thought! She flipped onto her back. If she didn’t stop thinking about Lord Hawkins, she would never get to sleep, and tomorrow would be a tiresome day riding together in the carriage.

  Together in the carriage! Her heartbeat quickened.

  She was thinking quite foolishly. A man like Lord Hawkins, who could have any woman he wanted—heavens, they were forever falling at his feet. Why would he be interested in an overlooked debutante—with the scandal of being a traitor to the crown looming over her?

  She fluffed up her pillow, punched it down again, then moved onto her side and refused to budge from that spot until she was fast asleep.

  Sometime later, Lizzie was awakened by the sound of footsteps treading carefully across the room. Frightened that it was someone who wanted to cause her harm, she remained very still, and through narrowed eyelids watched as the figure drew near. Pale moonlight filtered through the window, providing just enough illumination for her to see Hawk approach her bed and stop right next to it.

  Lizzie held her breath as he just stared at her. Then he ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair and bending low, kissed her on the forehead, the scent of brandy wafting over her. He turned and left the room.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Hawk’s deep voice interrupted her dream, right when he was about to kiss her. She opened her eyes to see him grinning, fully dressed, his hair still damp from his bath. “I want to get started early. The inn ostler tells me the private carriage I ordered is ready.”

  Without thinking, Lizzie tossed off the covers. Once the cool air hit her bare legs, she realized her nightgown had ridden up to the very top of her thighs. She sat up, whisking the garment down, blushing at Hawk’s smoldering glance. “I will be ready shortly. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Hawk shook his head, as if clearing it. “Ah, yes. Certainly. Downstairs.” He turned on his heels, then stopped when he reached the door. “The innkeeper’s wife has packed food so we can break our fast on the road to save time. As soon as you join me, I will have one of his sons fetch your satchels and load them onto the carriage.”

  Lizzie nodded and scrambled off the bed. Her face—and body—still burned from Hawk’s casual perusal of her in her scant nightclothes, with her legs bare. She hurriedly dressed, again pleased that her gowns didn’t require a lady’s maid since she’d had them made for a governess.

  The day was damp and dreary, but so far, no rain had fallen that would impede their travel. Lizzie accepted Hawk’s hand as she stepped into the carriage, shivering from the dampness. She settled herself, and he climbed in after her. Reaching under his seat, Hawk pulled out a lap robe, which he handed to her. Grateful for the extra warmth, she spread it over her body. The luggage was strapped onto the back of the coach, and they set off.

  Shortly afterward, Lizzie broke out the food and tea the innkeeper’s wife had sent. She and Hawk chatted amiably about general things while th
ey consumed cheese, cold meat, apples, and fresh bread. The tea wasn’t hot, but she still enjoyed it.

  Once the remaining food had been packed away, Lizzie drew in a deep breath and faced Hawk, her hands placed in her lap. “Tell me about my father’s death.”

  Hawk did not look surprised, which was unexpected. Or perhaps his years of working with the Home Office had trained him to hide his reactions. “This might not be a conversation for a lady.”

  “He was my father. I ask not as a lady, but as a daughter. Society only knew him as Lord Loverly, and then eventually as ‘that traitor.’ To me he was a devoted father, who showered me with love and attention after my mother died when I was a mere three years.”

  Hawk shook his head, as if he still did not want to speak on the matter, but Lizzie was adamant. Her voice thickening, she asked, “Please, my lord, I want to know. Did he suffer? Was he repentant at the end? What happened that His Grace found it necessary to shoot him?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hawk’s mind flashed back to the night he, Cam, Templeton, and Bedford had tracked down Loverly, who had been holding Bedford’s duchess captive, hoping to use her to escape the country. Hawk did not want to recount that night to Lizzie. Her father had not redeemed himself and had ended up on his knees begging for his life. When the man reached into his pocket, Bedford had shot him. It had been confirmed later that Loverly had had a pistol in his pocket, which they’d assumed he had been about to use on the Duke or his wife.

  It had been discussed among the four of them afterward that it had seemed as if Loverly had wanted Bedford to kill him. They had all been carrying firearms that night, so there was little chance Loverly would have escaped with his life anyway. Oftentimes informers did kill themselves to avoid the humiliation of a public beheading—the punishment for traitors.

  No amount of persuasion from Loverly’s daughter would convince him to relate that story exactly the way it had happened.

  “Your father was brought back from America by the Duke of Bedford and placed into prison. After only a few days, he escaped, and it was assumed he was headed back to America. However, before he was able to secure passage on any ship, Bedford, Lord Campbell, Mr. Templeton, and I tracked him down, where Bedford shot him to keep him from escaping once again.”